


All Of These Things

by Mcusekat



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Minor Violence, descriptions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 22:37:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6926464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mcusekat/pseuds/Mcusekat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You're avoiding Ryan,” Geoff said.<br/>“Who?” Gavin asked.<br/>Geoff sighed. “Ryan. The Vagabond. Don't deny it because you just proved my point, you piece of shit.”<br/>--<br/>As a sheltered mob boss's son Gavin lived vicariously through the Vagabond and the raw footage they aired on the news stations. That was it, he was <b>not</b> obsessed with the man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'I Am' by Awolnation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is complete and ready to be posted. The final word count is around 8k so it's not too long. Chapters post on Saturday, so check in then. I hope you enjoy!

 

 Gavin was used to crime and violence.

  Being a mob boss's son, he was accustomed to hearing about gore and brutality. He wasn't involved in the action, of course, though he wanted to be. He felt a pull to the action, always had. His father refused to let him be involved in his business. He said it was dangerous for him. Gavin knew very well that people were after his head, but he was willing to risk it if only to feel the excitement of the hunt. He sought work under fake names, but he was too well known in Europe to fool anyone, and not many crews were looking to hire the son of Europe's most powerful mob, either. Gavin had accepted defeat for the time being.

  Until he saw the Vagabond on the TV.

  It was a grainy still, a picture from a police helicopter of a man dressed in a black leather jacket and black skull mask, with a large gun on his back running out of a bank with two duffel bags of money. The ticker at the bottom was listing deaths and injuries, explosions, estimated money loss, and Gavin felt something inside him like a butterfly fluttering in his stomach. The gore, the brutality, reignited the want.

  “Stupid. He’s starting too big, setting too high of standards for himself. Robbing the Union before establishing himself,” his father said with a disgusted curl of his lip. “He’s reckless, careless. I think he’ll be dead within the month.”

  Gavin knew his father well enough to sense the fear in his tone. Even all the way in America the man was a threat to his empire, especially since he'd been stretching his reach there. The crews in Los Santos were infamously powerful and after his father's throne, and the Vagabond would be a fool to not join one or start his own. If one of those crews tried to dethrone him with this assassin in their hands, he wasn't sure if he would survive.

  He sent men to hunt the Vagabond, anonymously, and none came back alive. Not even their bodies could be recovered. So his father backed off, cornered without the Vagabond even having to make a move against him.

  Gavin was enamored. The Vagabond was everything he wanted to be. In the first four months since his arrival he’d already hit three banks, garnering over $20 million. Banks were upping their security with armed guards, extra cameras, expensive technology, but the Vagabond still managed to come out unscathed with millions at a time.

  It was nearly a year into his reign that he started targeting things other than banks.

  It started with a crew targeting him. Crime lords everywhere were fidgety at the thought of the Vagabond, and it was inevitable that one would try to take him out eventually.

  It, of course, ended disastrously.

  For one, the Vagabond, despite the facade he put up of being reckless and brutal, was extremely careful. No one knew where the hell he lived, what he looked like, even a breath of his name. It was incredible, really.

  So the crew did the next best thing they could, they bought a bank and trapped it with their own members, big guns, etc.. The Vagabond must’ve caught wind of their plan somehow, because he never showed to hold it up. He did, however, plant C4 all over the damn thing and blow it and everyone in it to hell. The Vagabond then, just to get the message across, hunted the Boss for months, teasing him. He blew up his car, burned every safe house he could find, killed the upper ranks of his crew, before finally murdering him in his tightly guarded mansion.

  Police never uttered a word about the hunt, but Gavin’s father talked about it frequently. He warned his father repeatedly not to pursue the Vagabond, to leave him be, and his father complied.

~  
  Gavin got a phone call from an old friend one night, a Geoff Ramsey from Los Santos. He was an ally of his father's, one of the Los Santos crews his father allied with in his attempt to spread his power over America.

  “Geoff? Hey, what’s up?” Gavin asked, stepping outside so his father couldn't hear.

  “Hey buddy! I heard you were looking for a crew?”

  Gavin was surprised at that. Geoff was in a high ranking crew called the “Rooster Teeth” made up of five guys, himself; Matt Hullum, Burnie Burns, Joel Heyman, and Gus Sorola. It was a very exclusive crew, never hiring, so Gavin know that wasn't the one he was being invited to.

  “Have you got a new crew or something?”

  “Yep! And you’re the first official recruit!”

  Gavin was thrilled at first, a job offer after five years of hunting. Then he started second guessing.

  “Are you still with the Rooster Teeth?”

  “Long story buddy. Short answer, kind of. I’ll explain later, just tell me if you’re in or not.”

  “Of course, you pleb! How long have I been wanting to join a crew?” Gavin hesitated at the last part. “You don’t mind my… situation, right?”

  “Nah, just, you know, keep it on the downlow. Can you be at my pent by Thursday?”

  “Of course. What time?”

  “Noonish.”

~

  Gavin settled on the couch for the evening news that night. The Vagabond hadn’t been active in awhile, and Gavin was curious as to what was going on.

  “Have you heard anything about the Vagabond fella lately?” he asked his father.

  He gave Gavin an odd look. “No, why?”

  Gavin shrugged. “I dunno, I’m just curious about him.”

  His father frowned at him, looking at him like he knew all of Gavin’s thoughts. “Gavin, I don’t want you having anything to do with that man. He’s dangerous.”

  “I’m not an idiot, I won’t do anything. I’m just curious. You need to stop being so overprotective of me.” Gavin looked over at his father, waiting for a reaction, hoping he couldn't see Gavin’s internal monologue.

  “Gavin, I love you, you know that. I just want you to be safe.”

  “I am! I can handle myself!” Gavin said, suddenly heated.

  His father was silent for a moment, startled. “I know you can, Gavin-”

  “I got an offer today to join a crew. I accepted.”

  His father’s eyes went wide. “Gavin-”

  “I’m 23 now, and it’s with someone I trust, someone you trust.”

  “Ramsey,” his father said tiredly. He scrubbed his face and sighed. “Gavin, you have to understand, it’s not like what you think it is.”

  Gavin took a deep breath. He wouldn’t yell, he would stay calm, rational. “Then let me figure that out myself. You know Ramsey, you know he won’t hurt me, and you know I’ll be safe with him.”

  His father stared at him with tired eyes. He seemed to age ten years in the span of their conversation. “Fine,” he said quickly. “Okay, fine. Just be smart about it, Gavin. You have a bad habit of not thinking before acting.”


	2. Chapter 2

The first week of being in Ramsey’s crew was boring. The second week was the best of his life.

  The crew was small; him, Geoff, and Jack, but they pulled some extravagant heists. By the end of the month they were racing away from the Maize Bank with duffels full of money and sirens wailing in their ears.

  Gavin was a millionaire within the first month, not that he needed the cash. The thrill of firing the gun was enough for him. It was like a game, cops and robbers, except if he got caught he was killed. That only made the game more fun.

  For the most part, Gavin forgot about the Vagabond. The man represented what he wanted to be, and when he was living the life he wanted he no longer needed to live vicariously through him.

  But the fascination didn't go away completely. Since moving from England to Los Santos and being closer to the Vagabond’s home territory, he felt an almost subconscious awareness of the man, rather than a conscious fixation with him. He found himself looking at the faces he passed and wondering if any of these people could be him. Every time he visited a bank as a civilian he hoped it would be held up just so he could see the man in action live, rather than through low resolution news cameras.

  Despite this, his fascination with the Vagabond was nowhere near what it once was. He didn't obsessively watch the news in hopes he would be there anymore. He wasn't looking up his crime scene photos, and installing questionable software to access the non-public ones anymore. He wasn't a permanent fixture on his mind anymore.

  This all went to shit when Geoff mentioned he’d offered him a job.

  It was early morning. Gavin was eating his breakfast, working through his early morning funk with a can of Redbull and way too much syrup, when Geoff walked in and said, “How do you guys feel about adding more members?”

  Gavin and Jack both shrugged. Geoff had been entertaining the idea since one heist went to shit half a year ago.

  “Got anyone in mind?” Jack asked.

  “I sent job offers to Gav’s friend Michael, an ex-bodyguard from a small New Jersey crew, and the Vagabond.”

  The fog from Gavin’s mind cleared. His eyes shot up to Geoff and he said, “The Vagabond? You know him?”

  Geoff shrugged, like it wasn't a big deal. “Yeah, he did a few jobs for us when I was in Rooster Teeth. Nice guy. You got any trouble with him?” he asked.

  Gavin shook his head. “Just, you know, he doesn't have the best record…”

  Geoff frowned. “He’s not a snitch. Tell him to do something and he’ll do it. His record is gold compared to a lot of people's.”

  Gavin looked down at his food. “Oh.”

  “Listen, Gav, tell me if you've got some shit with this guy. If he takes the job I don't want to have to put up with your bullshit.”

  “Never met the guy,” Gavin said. “Just heard some bad things about him.”

  “Well I've worked closely with him before, and he's good.”

  Gavin hummed an agreement and went back to his food. Surely the Vagabond wouldn't take the job. He’d been lone wolfing it for almost five years at that point, why would he suddenly settle?

~

  The Vagabond was a quiet guy. In the first week of Gavin working with him he only saw the man once, maybe twice. He wasn't even a permanent fixture, yet, just working with Geoff on some trial runs to see if he worked well in a crew environment.

  The second week Geoff started making plans to move the guy in, for convenience. Gavin had half expected this; he and Jack both lived in Geoff's massive penthouse. Still, when Geoff announced it, Gavin was taken aback.

  “You have no issues with this, right?” Geoff said to them both, but looking directly at Gavin.

  Gavin shook his head silently, and Geoff accepted it.

  Gavin wasn't even sure what bothered him about the Vagabond moving in. He had some irrational nightmare scenario in his head on the Vagabond somehow finding out Gavin idolized him not two years before, and then… something. He wasn't sure what the Vagabond would do. In retrospect, Gavin knew it wasn't that huge of a deal. So what, he had some odd fixation with the man and his work? But Gavin’s mind blew the whole thing out of proportion and he was powerless to stop it.

  Not much changed when he moved in. The man was busy, and more often than not he was out before Gavin was even awake and silent when he came back.

  When he was around, Gavin tried to play distant spectator. If the man was in the kitchen, Gavin would be in the living room, watching as he pulled a diet Coke (always a diet Coke, he'd never seen the man drink anything else). He wouldn't pull his mask off to drink it, only push it up enough to sip. He wore face paint under his mask, a red, black, and white design. He had yet to see the man's face. (Gavin wondered if that would his morbid fascination better or worse.)

  Sometimes he could come home from a job and the Vagabond would be on the couch, head bowed and seemingly asleep. The first time this happened he walked in too loud and the Vagabond jerked awake, blue eyes darting to the doorway. Gavin apologized and darted to the kitchen, to safety. After that he learned to walk in quieter.

~

  “You're avoiding Ryan,” Geoff said one day. He’d lured him into the kitchen and placed himself strategically in front of the only exit.

  “Who?” Gavin asked.

  Geoff sighed. “Ryan. The Vagabond. Don't deny it because you just proved my point, you piece of shit.”

  Gavin tried to remain neutral, like he wasn't freaking out inside. “Did he say something about it?”

  “No, but it's my job as your boss to know these things. I'm putting you two on a job. You insisted you have no problems with him, so this should be fine.”

  Gavin felt stricken. “What job?”

  “A drop off. It should be easy,” Geoff said. “You leave tomorrow at eight am. Be ready. Pack a couple days worth of clothes.”

  Before Gavin could protest Geoff was gone, leaving Gavin to ruminate on his words.

~

  The Vagabond, or Ryan apparently, drove a dark blue Adder. He found the man standing in front of it, leaning on the hood with his mask off so he could smoke his cigarette. He wasn't wearing his facepaint, Gavin noted first. The second thing he noted was the blond stubble on his cheeks. He had a handsome face; blue eyes and sharp cheekbones paired with messy blond hair pulled into a loose ponytail to give his face good definition. He was beautiful, someone Gavin would have dreamt about in his teenage wank fantasies, and Gavin had to take a moment to compose himself because dammit if he wasn't already infatuated with the man, he had to go and be perfect too?

  The door closed behind him and echoed through the garage. Ryan looked over at him and half waved.

  “Hello,” Gavin said, his voice to feeble for his liking.

  “Hey. Sorry, I'm almost done with this. Long drive ahead, and I don't like smoking in the car,” he said, flicking the ash onto the concrete.

  “Where is the drop off point?” Gavin asked, trying to not focus on those slender fingers.

  “Salt Lake City,” he said. “Geoff didn't tell you?”

  Gavin almost visibly flinched. He shook his head. “He knows I hate long car rides.” His voice was too close to a whine. He wondered if he could go back upstairs and bitch at Geoff until he assigned someone else to the job. Maybe a year ago, Geoff was more immune to his whining now, unfortunately.

  Ryan chuckled, a pleasant sound. “Well, I can't claim to be the most interesting road trip partner but I have a car charger and Sirius radio. I think Ray might’ve left his DS car charger in my glove box too.” Ryan finished the cigarette and snuffed it on the ground, then tossed it into the trash.

  “Are we driving straight to or will we at least have hotel stops?”

  “We have three, one to and from and one at Salt Lake,” Ryan said.

  Gavin nodded absently as he crossed over to the passenger seat. He wasn't looking forward to the drive. On top of his intense hatred for long car rides, he would also be stuck in Ryan’s expensive albeit tiny car.

  There was a pine tree air freshener hanging off the rear view mirror. It swung slightly when they climbed into the car. The interior was white leather, pristine. Ryan obviously took good care to keep it clean, which made Gavin even more anxious. He wasn't dirty, but he was suddenly stressed about making a mess. When he started the car, the radio tuned automatically to some showtunes channel. The Vagabond listened to… showtunes?

  “You can change it,” Ryan said quickly.

  He at least had satellite radio. Gavin switched it to a top 40s station, but turned it down low enough that he could stare absently out the window.

  For a while they drove in silence. Gavin wasn't keen on having a conversation with the man, but he could see the anxious twitch of his fingers. Ryan, apparently, didn't like long silences. Gavin would have guessed the exact opposite, but so far the man had dashed all expectations of himself.

  “How long have you known Geoff?” Ryan asked.

  “Ten years,” he said. “You? He told me you worked with his old crew a bit.”

  “Yeah, sort of. I did more tech work back then. Hacking.”

  “How'd you go from a hacker to being a serial killer?” Gavin blurted without thinking.

  Ryan chuckled. “Serial killing is more profitable than hacking.”

  Gavin relaxed. He hadn't gotten defensive, or been snarky. A good sign.

  “How much do you make? Per hit, I mean,” he asked.

  Ryan glanced over, an odd grin on his lips. “Looking to hire me? I usually charge 400 thousand flat with extra fees for any requests or a difficult setting, et cetera.”

  “I don't have a job, just curious. You're one of the most famous, er, infamous mercenaries on the market right now,” he said.

  “I suppose so. I don't charge for my fame, though, I charge pretty much what everyone else does.”

  “Is 400 thousand average? Seems a bit steep,” Gavin said.

  “Okay, what do you think I should charge?” Ryan asked.

  “One thousand.”

  “ _One thousand?_ These are real human lives that you're valuing at one thousand dollars,” he said with a playfully argumentative tone.

“Well when you say it that way I sound like a prick,” Gavin said. “One thousand is a lot of money! If someone told me I was worth a thousand dollars, I'd be happy!”

  “Well I'd be insulted,” Ryan said after he’d stopped laughing.

  The conversation flowed easily, and Gavin didn't think much about it until they stopped at a hotel in St George, Utah. The halfway point. There were many hotels in the town, but most of them had three stars or under, to Gavin's dismay.

  “We could get a good hotel and just drive straight back to Los Santos,” Gavin said as Ryan pulled into an Econo Lodge, three and a half stars. He didn't even try to keep the whine out of his voice.

  “Easy for you to say, I'm driving,” he said.

  “I'll drive.”

  Ryan scoffed. “Not my car, you won't.”

  Gavin groaned again and Ryan cut off his whining with a “This will be fine.”

  The woman behind the counter was like a robot, taking their money and handing them a key with nary a polite “Hello,” or “Have a nice stay.”

  “She's working at a three star hotel, you think she gives a shit?” Ryan reasoned as they walked up the stairs to their room.

  “I mean, it wouldn't bloody kill her to say ‘Hello,’ now would it,” Gavin said, flailing his arms.

  “I can tell you've never had a shitty job,” Ryan replied, the picture of cool.

  Gavin struggled with a retort for a moment before crossing his arms over his chest and ‘hmph’-ing. Ryan chuckled.

  “Your accent is stronger when you're pissed off,” he said idly as the door swung open. Gavin stared at him for a moment before following him in. He decided not to overthink that.

  The room was two queen beds, a TV, a small desk and a bathroom area, and not much else. The wallpaper was faded peach and the two lamps were mismatched; one being dark green and the other light brown.

  Gavin examined it, a look of distaste in his expression. “Bloody look at this place. It's hideous,” Gavin said, lip curling up in disgust. “We may as well find a mattress in an alleyway. It's probably cleaner.”

  Ryan patted his back and Gavin stiffened at the contact.

  “You're welcome to sleep in the car,” he said, moving past him to enter. He tossed the duffel onto the counter and his bag onto the bed furthest from the window.

  Gavin shook the thoughts from his head and walked in. “I might,” he mumbled.

~

  “How much longer is it to Salt Lake?” Gavin asked. He was laying on his bed watching the TV absently. The only channels were local, so after flipping through thirty news stations he'd settled on the one with the bustiest anchor woman.

  “About 4 hours,” Ryan said. He was stood at the sink brushing his teeth. His hair was damp from the shower and pulled up in a bun, and the light grey t-shirt he was wearing clung to his skin. Gavin was struggling to not stare at the guy but it was far too easy to let his eyes wander to his wide shoulders, slender frame, narrow waist. He stopped himself there.

  He would murder Geoff when he got home. This trip had done nothing but send his hormones back to his teenage years, and he would never forgive Geoff for forcing him to do this.

  “What's the drop off for? Can't imagine much organized crime here,” Gavin said.

  “You'd be surprised. Utah is the call center capital of America. A lot of phone scam businesses are based here,” he said.

  “Phone scammers? I hate those pricks, why are we helping them out?”

  “Ask Geoff,” Ryan said, shrugging. He rinsed his mouth and tucked his toothbrush back in the plastic baggie, then walked to bed. “Anything good on?”

  “Just news,” Gavin said, tossing Ryan the remote.

  Ryan studied the channel guide on the nightstand for a moment before putting it down with a sigh.

  “You get what you pay for,” Gavin quipped, earning an eye roll from Ryan.

  They lapsed into silence, both finding other ways to entertain themselves. Gavin had started browsing Twitter and Ryan had brought his Kindle along and started reading.

  His phone chirped suddenly, breaking the quiet atmosphere. The text was from ‘Micool’, a friend back in Los Santos. He was in the test phase of being hired and he and Gavin made quick friends.

_‘Yo boi, wassup?-M’_

_‘Hey boi. Nm, work :/-G’_

_‘sux. Anything interesting happen?-M’_

  _‘No,’_ Gavin typed, then considered whether or not he should tell Michael about Ryan. They talked about people they fancied a lot, but Gavin felt this was more than just that he liked the way he looked. This went back a lot farther than a simple physical attraction.

   _‘No. The guy I'm with is p cute tho.-G’_

_‘what's he look like?-M’_

_‘Blue eyes, longish blond hair, the perfect cheekbones. He wears leather and drives an Adder too.-M’_

_‘he's rich? Dayum dude you gotta.-M’_

_‘Gotta what? I work with the bloke!-G’_

_‘so? Goeff wouldn't give a shit.-M’_

_‘I would. Keep work and personal life separate and all that shit.-G’_

_‘then keep work nd personal life separate. you can date someone and not let it invade every aspect of your life.-M’_

Gavin looked over at Ryan and considered this. Yeah, he could, but was that the thing stopping him? He wasn't sure if Ryan felt the same, and they'd only had one day of interaction. Hell, that morning he'd been staring awkwardly out the window and dreading the next three days with the guy because he was kind of afraid of him.

   _‘that's not the problem.-G’_

_‘then what is?-M’_

_‘I barely know the guy.-G’_

_‘hasn't stopped you before.-M’_

_‘Micoo, pls-G”_

Ryan shifted in bed and reached over to turn the lamp off. “I'm going to bed,” he said.

  “I will too,” Gavin said, noticing the time on his phone read two am. It would be three in Los Santos. Or one. One of those.

  He sent a goodnight text to Michael and scooted under the covers. For being a cheap three star motel, the bed was actually fairly comfortable. Of course, he alway slept better at hotels and motels. Something about the change of scenery, or the anonymity of it. He liked traveling when it was done in the comfort of his father's private jet. He actually somewhat enjoyed the car ride with Ryan, though, after they started talking at least.

  He switched off his lamp and made himself comfortable, curled in the center of his bed facing the window. Ryan fell asleep first, and Gavin could hear his gentle breaths in the dead silent room. Usually that annoyed him, having any sound at all while he was trying to sleep, but he found an odd comfort in the steady rhythm of Ryan's breathing.


	3. Chapter 3

After taking advantage of the free breakfast they went back to driving.

  It was still fairly early in the morning. Traffic was slow as people commuted to work, and it was a while before they even made it out of St George.

  Gavin reclined in his seat and messed with his phone. Ryan had let him Bluetooth to the speaker in the car and he was sifting through his music for something they could both enjoy. Ryan’s taste, however, was mainly orchestral and soft rock, while Gavin veered more towards 80s pop and top 40s. After 30 minutes of “No, I _hate_ rap” and “For the hundredth bloody time I haven't got that on my phone” he just put on a Pandora station with a little bit of everything to appease them both.

  It was a relaxed environment still. They maintained a conversation for the most part, supported mostly by Gavin’s weird hypotheticals and the small scuffles they got into over everything.

  Geoff called Gavin's phone at noon, interrupting what was burgeoning on an hour long debate about coin flips that both were getting way into.

  “Hello, Geoffrey,” Gavin said chipperly.

  “Hey Gav. How's everything going?” he asked.

  “Great. We’re a an hour or so away from Salt Lake. We’ll get there with time to spare.”

  Geoff was quiet for a moment. “You’re in a good mood,” he said, confused. “How’re you getting along with Ryan?”

  “Great, actually. He’s a bit… feisty, but we get on well.”

  Ryan scoffed and gave him a half smirk, to which Gavin rolled his eyes.

 Geoff hummed. “That's good. You're not afraid of him anymore then?”

  “I wasn't-” Gavin started, then paused to lower his voice. “I wasn't afraid of him!”

  Ryan chuckled. “You were afraid of me?”

  “No! Don't eavesdrop, it's impolite,” he huffed.

  “Okay, I'll let you go back to blowing each other or whatever,” Geoff said, sounding very pleased with himself.

   “Don’t be so smarmy,” Gavin huffed.

  “Call me when the drop off is over,” Geoff said. “Stay safe, asshole.”

  “Bye Geoff,” Gavin said. He tapped the end call button and set his phone back in the cup holder.

  “What’d he say?” Ryan asked.

  “Checking in,” Gavin said. “And for the record, I wasn't scared of you,” Gavin said, crossing his arms over his chest.

  Ryan grinned. “Of course not.”

  “Really! What reason would I have to be scared of you?”

  “I don't know. You did avoid me for quite some time before this though…” Ryan said. He looked over at Gavin with a raised brow.

  “Not because I was scared of you,” he said, knowing he was going into dangerous territory. He couldn't tell Ryan it was because he was obsessed with him in his youth, and still had a lingering crush on him now. So what could he tell him?

  “I see,” Ryan said. He didn't press him for more, by some miracle.

  Gavin relaxed into his seat, and for the first time in hundreds of miles, the conversation fell dead.

~

  The hotel at Salt Lake was a bit nicer than the one in St George. It was the Red Lion, a four star hotel in downtown Salt Lake. The TV was a flat screen, and the beds were a bit softer. It was also an actual hotel, not a motel.

  They were on the third floor and had a view of the pool and some other businesses across the street.

  “Do we have time to swim before the drop off?” Gavin asked. He was looking out the window. The pool had a few guests in it, a couple younger men, a woman and her baby, and some elderly folk sunbathing. Gavin knew they weren't sanitary, but he liked pools. The apartment building their pent was in had a nice indoor pool with a jacuzzi and he spent many evenings there just floating.

  Ryan checked his clock. “The drop off is at six, right?”

  Gavin nodded.

  “Sure,” Ryan said.

  Gavin pulled his shorts out of the bag and and headed to the bathroom to change.

  “Did you bring trunks?” he asked when he came out. He had his tee shirt on, an old one he didn't mind getting damp.

  “I'm not swimming,” Ryan said. He was reclining on his bed, switching through the channels.

  “What? Why not?” Gavin asked. He was more than a little disappointed at the lost opportunity to see Ryan swimming.

  Ryan gave him an odd look. “I don't like swimming,” he said, shrugging.

  “Are you coming with me at least? I'll look like a weirdo down there all by myself,” he pleaded.

  “How?” Ryan asked, frowning at him. Gavin gave him a pleading look and Ryan groaned. “Fine,” he said. He turned the TV off and grabbed his Kindle from his bag and made to follow Gavin.

  “You’re going in that?” Gavin asked, gesturing to his clothes. It was jeans and a tee shirt, his normal outerwear.

  “Yeah? What's wrong with this?”

  “People will think you're a creep. Put on some shorts at least,” he said.

  “You're awful demanding to someone who's doing you a favor,” Ryan huffed and started sifting through his bag.

  A few minutes later they set out to the pool, armed with two towels (in case) and the room key.

  They found an empty table at the less busy side of the pool and Gavin dumped his crap. “You sure you don't want to swim, Rye?” Gavin asked.

  “Pretty sure,” he said. He’d already relaxed into the seat with his Kindle, hat pulled over his eyes to block the sun.

  “You're no fun,” Gavin said. He shed his shirt, placing it on the stack of towels. He didn't miss the way Ryan's eyes quickly glanced up his body, but he also didn't let himself think too much on what that meant. “Is the problem that you can't swim?”

  “No, I just don't want to,” he said.

  Gavin scowled before marching over to the edge of the pool and climbing in. It was cold, so he took a minute to adjust to the temperature before submerging himself.

  He found a secluded corner and laid on his back to float. It was hard as he was so skinny, but with a little effort he succeeded.

  Under the water the voices of all the people were muffled, distant. He could hear his heart beating in ears, the mellow hiss of himself breathing. He relaxed more, clearing his mind.

  He realized then how happy he was. All in all, his life was more fulfilling then than it had been his whole life. Sure, back home with his father he had more money to blow and people waiting on him hand and foot, but in Geoff’s crew he had freedom. More freedom than he could ever hope for. And good friends who would die for him, and who he would die for as well. He hadn't had friends who weren't in it for the money before, and he never knew how wonderful it was. Even with Ryan, when he wasn't stressing over his crush on him, was fun to hang out with.

  “Gavin.”

  Speak of the devil. Gavin jerked out of his meditative state and splashed about uselessly for a moment. He shifted himself into an upright position and moved over to the edge where Ryan was standing, holding his phone.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You have a call.”

  Gavin shook his hand dry before taking it. “Hello?” he asked.

  “Hey Gav, change of plans. The people want to meet with you before the drop off. Same place, same time,” Geoff said. His voice was carefully neutral.

  “Meeting? Why?” Gavin asked, confused.

  “No clue, just make sure to gear up before. We haven't worked much with them before, so I don't know how well this will go,” he said. He sounded nervous.

  “Can't you deny them, or tell them to reschedule?”

  Geoff sighed, his breath tinny over the phone speaker. “This is a 20 million dollar deal. Too expensive to throw away. There's too much at stake here to throw away on a bad feeling. Besides, you've got Ryan, and you aren't bad with a gun yourself. If you don't want to do this I won't force you, but keep in mind how much money is at stake here.”

  “I'll talk to Ryan and text you,” he said.

  “Don't take long,” he said.

  The call ended and Gavin handed Ryan the phone. He climbed over the edge of the pool and dried off, then relayed to Ryan what Geoff had told him.

  “Ask Geoff for more info on the guys so we have a better idea of what we're up against.”

  Gavin nodded and sent Geoff a text. It was a moment before he responded. _‘They're weapons dealers from Colorado, from a larger operation that worked closely with Rooster Teeth. After we disbanded, so did they, and the guys who are left are just a couple stragglers. I've never worked one on one with these guys.’_

He showed the text to Ryan, who read it over carefully.

  “He says they're a couple stragglers, so I can't imagine it being more than a few people,” he said. His fingers were tapping nervously on the wrought iron table.

  “Maybe they just want to start a partnership,” Gavin said.

  “They might also want to get revenge on Geoff. A cushy job being the Rooster Teeth ammunitions dealer, suddenly yanked out from under them. We need to prepare for worst case scenario but hope for best,” he said. “We should go up to the room and get ready.”

  Gavin didn't argue.


	4. Chapter 4

The Great Salt Lakes were beautiful.

  The water was like a giant mirror reflecting the orange and grey skies, bordered on either sides sides by the picturesque mountains. They seemed like matte paintings, like a backdrop to a play. The horizon, however, seemed to go on forever.

  Gavin and Ryan were in a little tourist shop that had long been closed down. It was tiny, an old snack bar, painted a gaudy orange and yellow with faded red text.

  “It's beautiful out here,” Gavin said. He was standing in the doorway, gazing out at the scenery. There was a relief to be found in gazing at the scenery. The nervous pit in his stomach hadn't subsided since he got Geoff’s call.

  Ryan was leaning against the metal counter checking his weapons for the hundredth time. His mask was on so Gavin couldn't read his features, but the stiffness in his shoulders was enough for him to know that he was nervous as well.

  “It is,” he said distractedly.

  There wasn't anyone out this late into the evening. Seagulls flew ahead, squawking occasionally, but there were no sounds otherwise. Even the lake was silent, no waves against the rocks or anything.

  When the other groups car pulled up they both heard it. Ryan tucked his gun back into his jacket and put the duffel next to the door.

  Showtime.

  Three men met them behind the shack. The leader was a tall skinny guy in a hoodie and the two men behind him were in tee shirts ridden up enough to see their guns. A threat, or perhaps a display of dominance. Whatever it was, it made Ryan’s shoulders stiffen.

  “You’re Ramsey’s men,” the leader said. He hiked his shoulders up to appear larger and he held his chin up so he was looking down his nose at Gavin. Definitely a display of dominance. Gavin had to fight the sneer threatening to show on his lips.

  Gavin nodded. “Geoff told us you wanted to talk?”

  “That's right. We want to make a deal, become your main weapons dealers,” the guy said.

  Gavin raised his eyebrow. “How do you figure? We already have two weapons dealers, we don't need a third.”

  The guy clenched his jaw. “Ramsey owes us. When he left Rooster Teeth, we lost our jobs, our livelihoods.”

  “Geoff didn't leave Rooster Teeth, it wasn't his fault,” Gavin said. The leader was becoming defensive. His hands were fisted at his sides and his jaw was clenched.

  “It fucking was! And the least he could do is give us a job!” He took a step forward, but Gavin stood his ground.

  “There's no positions open, sorry. Now, do you want to make the deal or not?”

  “I have a better idea,” he sneered. Before he knew it the man had the front of his shirt and was twisting him around to put a knife to his throat. Gavin yelped in fear. “I'll slit your throat and my guys here will kill your bodyguard. Being the ones who killed Ramsey’s favorite twink and the Vagabond, people will come for miles to hire us.”

  “Let him go, asshole,” Ryan growled. His gun was drawn, trained just over Gavin’s shoulder.

  “Why should I?”

  The knife bit into Gavin’s skin and he cried in panic. It wasn't too deep, but definitely deep enough to bleed.

  Acting on instinct, Gavin grabbed the hand holding the knife and elbowed him as hard as he could in the rib. The guy faltered, losing his grip enough for Gavin to wrench the knife from his grasp. As soon as he was free he spun around and punched him in the jaw. The leader recovered quickly and swung back, low, hitting Gavin in the gut. Gavin fell back but stayed on his feet. He still had the guys knife, so he lunged and buried it in his abdomen.

  The guy cried out in surprise, grabbing the handle while blood gushed around it. While he did this Gavin pulled out his gun and fired one into the guy’s head.

 Ryan had made quick work of the two guards while he was preoccupied. When Gavin stumbled back to lean against the wall, exhausted and still a bit out of breath from the punch to the gut, Ryan rushed over to him.

  “You okay?”

  Gavin nodded. “Just surprised.”

  He reached down and pulled his shirt up to examine the punch area. He'd missed the ribs, just got him square in the stomach. It hurt but it wouldn't leave a mark.

  “Your neck,” Ryan said. Oh, yeah.

  He reached up to touch it and came away with blood on his fingertips. It wasn't a lot, a bandage and some pressure would heal it up fast.

  “It's fine,” he said. “Let's go back, please?”

  “Good idea. I'm sure the cops are nearby anyways.”

  Gavin cleaned himself up in Ryan's car. He pressed on the wound to slow the bleeding, but the collar of his button-down was soaked.

  “I'll bandage it when we get back,” Ryan said, glancing at him.

  Gavin didn't argue. “You think It’ll scar?”

  “Doubt it. Doesn't look very deep. That's just an area that bleeds a lot.”

  Gavin nodded. He believed Ryan.

  No one was in the lobby when they arrived, save for a bored receptionist. They made their way up to their floor without drawing any attention. When they got in their room Ryan directed Gavin to the edge of his bed and grabbed his first aid kit from his bag.

  “Look up,” he said before kneeling in front of him.

  Ryan was gentle. He warned Gavin before he used peroxide and his fingers were light when he smoothed out the bandage. Gavin tried not to shudder at Ryan’s touch, but it was difficult. Dressing wounds to prevent infection wasn't erotic, but Gavin felt hyper-sensitive from the adrenaline. He closed his eyes and focused on Ryan's fingers over his skin.

  His mind was whirring with a hundred different thoughts. Gavin lived dangerous situations, but he had never been in a situation like that, with a knife to his throat, only an inch or so incision away from death. It wasn't as fun as running away from a bank, or darting through city streets in a supercar. That was fun. The situation he'd just been in was not.

  “Okay,” Ryan said, patting his thigh. Gavin opened his eyes, snapping out of his mind. Ryan leaned back and examined Gavin more. “Did he get you anywhere else?”

  Gavin shook his head.

  Ryan was close to him, less than a foot away. From there he could see him more clearly, those clear blue eyes, the worry lines on his face, the dark bags under his eyes. Ryan looked older like this. He looked tired, worn. There was a stark contrast to the Ryan he was used to seeing; the bubbly, laughing, happy guy who told bad jokes and antagonized Gavin, and even to the Vagabond; the dark, masked man who thrived on fear, to the Ryan now.

  Gavin hadn't meant to when he reached for Ryan's face and cupped his cheek, but Ryan didn't pull away. He leaned into his touch slightly, but his eyes searched Gavin curiously.

  For a long moment they sat there silently before Gavin leaned in and kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is an epilogue.


	5. Epilogue

  “What if your legs forgot they were legs?”

  “...what if your legs…. Forgot they were legs.” Ryan drew out the question, trying to decipher what Gavin meant. 

  “Yeah. Like…” Gavin pondered the question for a minute, the meaning lost on even him. 

  Ryan looked over at him for a moment and laughed. “Okay,” he said. 

  “No, like, you know how your brain knows it's a brain, and your arms know they're arms. What if your legs forgot they were legs?”

  “Your brain tells your parts what they are. There's not tiny, independent brains in every body part.”

 “Okay, fine, what if your brain told your legs they were arms?”

  Ryan pondered this for a second. “It'd be pretty weird I guess.”

  “Yeah,” Gavin breathed.

  They were driving down an empty road, nothing for miles. Gavin’s feet were propped up on the dash of the car and he was typing a text to Michael.

  “Michael called me a dumbass!” he said, incredulous. 

  “Did you ask him the same question you asked me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well there you go.”

  Gavin scoffed. “You guys are terrible. I'm going to get new friends. I hear Funhaus is nice. Or Screwattack.”

  “Geoff's been talking about trading you for Kovic.”

  “Wow, Kovic? That's flattering, honestly.”

  Gavin looked up from his phone and over at Ryan. He looked good that day. They'd both slept in a bit since they had no obligations and had a good breakfast at a little diner on the Nevada/Utah border. With their job done they had decided to have fun with their road trip. They were ahead of schedule anyways, Geoff wasn't expecting them back until the next day.

  “Where were you born?” Gavin asked.

  “Georgia, why?” he asked.

  “Curious. When did you move to Los Santos?”

  “After college, ten or so years ago.”

  “What'd you go to college for?”

  Ryan frowned at Gavin. “Are we playing 20 questions?”

  “You don't have to answer if you don't want. Or you can ask me a question in return,” Gavin said, shrugging.

  “So we are playing 20 questions. You owe me two then. When did you move from England?”

  “When I joined the Fake, a year ago.”

  “Why did you join Ramsey’s crew?”

  “He asked if I wanted to. I'd wanted to join a crew for awhile. Now answer your question,” Gavin said. 

  He’d set his phone down. Michael was on a job so he was taking a long time to text back anyways. Geoff had been considering him as a potential crew member under Gavin's recommendation, so he'd been working some trial runs with Jack. 

  “What was it again?”

  “I forgot. Oh, what'd you go to college for?”

  “Theatre and animation.”

  Gavin paused. “Theatre and animation, seriously?”

  “What'd you think I went for? There's no courses about murdering people as a career,” Ryan said, and Gavin chuckled. 

  “You just don't seem like a theatre kind of guy. Well, actually yeah you do.”

  Ryan frowned. “I feel slightly insulted. Oh, my turn for a question. How'd you meet Geoff? You said you've known him for ten years, and you're 24 now, so you met him when you were 13?”

  “Yeah. He knew my father. The Rooster Teeth Crew and my father had a deal, since they were the two biggest crime organizations at the time. One time Geoff and the others visited for a meeting and I was playing Xbox on the couch,” Gavin said. “Where are we?”

  “Is that your question?”

  “Is that yours?”

  Ryan scowled at Gavin for a moment before answering. “An hour or so from home,” he said.

  Gavin nodded. He took a breath, choosing his words, feeling the impending reality upon him like a storm cloud in the distance. In this car, barreling down a barren highway a hundred miles from Los Santos, it was easy to pretend this was as hard as it would get. It was easy to pretend it was just them in the vast Mojave, talking about their past lives. When they hit city limits, though, they hit responsibilities, work. 

  Ryan’s touch shattered his thoughts. His hand slid easily along Gavin’s, those long fingers intertwining with his. He brought his hand up and kissed the back gently.

  “Hey, don't overthink it,” Ryan said.

  Gavin sighed. “I'm not,” he said.

  “I'm not an idiot. Are you hungry? We can stop for food before we go home if you want,” he offered. 

  Gavin smiled. “I could eat.”

  Ryan nodded. “There's a place in Vinewood that has the best pizza on the west coast. It's a bit expensive, but it's worth it. I'll pay.”

  Gavin smiled, resting his head on the window. Their hands were still joined on the center console. Ryan's thumb stroked Gavin’s soothingly as he raved about the restaurant.

  He thought back to a couple years ago, watching TV with his father, both of them deathly silent when this man came on as the news hyperbolized his atrocities. 

  He wondered what his young self would have thought if he was told that that man, the one he both admired and feared, would be there, beside him, holding his hand. 

  “Ryan,” he said. 

  “Hmm?”

  It was far too early for love, but he couldn't think of a better word for the way Ryan made him feel. Fondness perhaps.

  “I like you,” he said. “You're great.”

 Ryan chuckled. “I like you too.”

  The time for love would come, but right now that was enough. Some part of him knew Ryan knew what he meant anyways. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End. 
> 
> Thank you soon much to everyone who's read, liked, and commented on this fic <3 I really enjoyed reading all the lovely comments.
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr if you'd like, I'm [Mcusekat](http://desertsongs.co.vu/).
> 
> Thank you <3


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